


The "I’m Joking Unless You’re Down For It" Squad

by GoggledMonkey



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alley Sex, Kink Meme, M/M, PWP, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4431566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoggledMonkey/pseuds/GoggledMonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he says, “Surly there must be something I can do to thank you,” it’s supposed to be funny and light. Instead his throat catches and the words come out husky like a filthy promise.</p>
<p>Or, where Daredevil rescues Foggy from being mugged, they pretend they don't know each other, and Foggy kinda propositions him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The "I’m Joking Unless You’re Down For It" Squad

The walk home from Karen’s apartment is longer then Foggy would prefer, especially so late, but it is worth it to walk her home from Josie’s. Foggy’s pretty sure she only accepted to humour him but he still feels like a gentleman anyway. The plus side of walking Karen home is that she is less likely to sneak back to the office to sleep; he hates thinking that she sleeps there instead of her own home.

How did she even sleep at the office? At her desk? On her desk? Any option is so uncomfortable it makes him wince.

What they needed was a couch, or maybe a futon, in the office. There was a sofa bed he’d been eyeing at the used furniture and appliance store three blocks down from his apartment for such purpose. It was cheap but it also looked like the 70s threw up on a Jackson Pollock inspired floral print. Of course it’s not like Matt cared if they had an ugly couch and all three of them could use it. And it wasn’t like their clientele would be offended by cheap furniture.

Foggy is startled out of his furniture thoughts by a young man stepping in front of him asking, “Hey man, you got a cigarette?”

The hairs on Foggy’s neck prickle. It’s late, it’s dark and no one else is around. It’s not like everyone in Hell’s Kitchen was out to get you but walking around by yourself at night did leave one vulnerable to muggings. Sure, the kid could be innocently asking for a smoke but he also looked a little too nervous if all he wanted was a cigarette.

“Sorry, buddy.” Foggy gives a smile and tries to step around the man, “I don’t smoke.” 

“Ok, well, do you think I could borrow your phone? Mines dead and I gotta make a call.” The man moves closer and Foggy steps back, instantly regretting it since it moves him backwards into the alley. 

Fuck. Yeah, he was definitely getting mugged. 

“Sorry, I’d love to help but I don’t have a phone,” he lies. Another man, older then the first and also in a dark hoodie, stepped out of the shadows and cuts off his exit.

“You don’t have a phone? You look pretty fancy to not have a phone.”

Fuck his life.

He smiles politely and puts his hands up in defeat. Goddam, he didn’t have the money to buy a new phone.

“I don’t want any trouble guys.”

Maybe if he pointed out the crack on the screen and how obviously they wouldn’t get anything for it they wouldn’t take it.

“Yeah, well, you won’t have a problem if you do what we say.”

The knife the older looking one pulls out is really unnecessary Foggy thinks eyeing it wearily. He really didn’t want to get stabbed tonight.

“Look, that’s really unnecessary”

“Shut up!” The knife wobbles as it points toward Foggy, “Give us all your money!” 

Foggy can’t help but let out a startled laugh. Give us all your immense debt would probably get them more since his wallet currently contains some crumpled dollar bills, a maxed out AMEX, three pesos and the card for his building’s laundry room (current balance 1.50 which was .25 cents less than the amount to wash a load of laundry).

“You think I’m joking?” 

It definitely pisses muggers off when you laughed in their face. It was nice of the man not to punch Foggy with the hand holding the knife but it still hurt. He stumbles back and falls on his ass.

“Fucking rich assholes like you think you own this city,” the man growls kicking at Foggy who scrambles back. Before his feet connected very hard, the younger man grabs at his partner.

“Raphie, stop! You don’t wanna hurt him. Just get his wallet so we can go!"

“Why don’t we all relax?” Foggy asks trying for guile, doing the sensible thing and reaching into his jacket for his wallet.

“Shut up! Don’t move! Just don’t move unless I tell you!”

His hands go up again because there was still a knife in play which could easily slide into his soft vulnerable bits.

And it was so not fair since Foggy is neither The Man nor a rich asshole and he wants to explain that and maybe add something about not throwing your life away with bad life decisions. Unfortunately, the other half of his brain has been yelling OH SHIT! OH SHIT! over and over ever since the knife appeared. It was so difficult to bring up his immense charm with his heart was pounding in his throat. 

It is this tableau of him cowering on the alley floor and his inept muggers standing over him getting more and more panicked about how shitty they are at being thieves that Hell’s Kitchen resident super hero decides to pay a call.

The thud of Daredevil landing in the alley make all three of them jump. His muggers turn and they all stare at the costumed man eerily back lit from the street light.

“Get away from him.” 

Here’s the thing: the Daredevil stuff both pisses Foggy off and amuses the hell out of him. It pisses Foggy off because Matt’s running around taking the law into his own hands, spying on people’s hearts, and nearly dying nightly. However, no matter how upsetting it is, it is also fucking ridiculous because Matt runs around at night in a costume. A bright red costume with horns. 

So, it’s stupid. Except that, in the dark, when his face is shadowed and his voice low and icy, he seems like a fucking demon. 

“Oh fuck!” The kid wheezes terrified, “It’s the Devil.”

A point in the two guy’s favour is they don’t run screaming into the night. They try to fight.

It’s just not a fair fight.

It takes Matt seconds to take down Foggy’s assailants and it’s as awesome as it is terrifying. Because it is one thing to know intellectually that Matt can do something, one thing to have watched the grainy news footage; it is an entirely other thing to watch him in swoop in like a graceful ninja and kick ass like the wrath of God.

The kid swings a fist towards Matt’s head and Matt uses that fist, arm and momentum to toss him into the side of a dumpster. He tries to get up and Matt’s leg snaps back and then the kid doesn’t try to get up again.

“Felix!” the older one bellows, charging. He takes a swipe with the knife but Matt just, like, spins away from the blade and somehow has the arm holding it twisted up behind the guy’s back. Then they’re both down on the ground with Daredevil on top. It’s three quick jabs, one right after the other, and then the other guy’s not moving either. 

“It’s ok.” That’s Matt’s voice but also Matt’s knuckles smeared in blood so he feels it’s fair if his heart keeps up the racket. Matt turns back to the limp body under him, tips him onto his side and with a zip tie out of some hidden pocket binds his hands behind his back. 

“Can I have your necktie, sir?” Matt asks, reaching back to Foggy who just kind of blinks dumbly at him, the words ‘necktie’ and ‘sir’ coming out as complete non sequiturs.

“What?”

“Necktie.” Matt’s voice is gruff, “Please.” The please is equally rough.

“Oh… yeah ok.” It takes Foggy a moment longer than necessary to remove his tie since his fingers won’t stop shaking. Matt slides it from his sweaty fingers and use the tie to bind the younger mugger’s writs together. 

“Are you ok, sir?” 

“What? What are you-“

“Are you ok, sir?” Matt cuts him off and emphasises the sir a little harder and it clicks. Right. It’s not like it should be public knowledge he’s ever met Daredevil, never mind knowing his secret identity.

“I’m fine…Daredevil.” The name feels wrong in his mouth, “Thanks.”

“Just doing my job.” Matt’s mouth twists that sardonic way it does when he thinks he’s being cute and Foggy scowls. 

_No, your job is being a lawyer. Stop running around punching people unconscious during the night! You’re going to get yourself killed!_

He doesn’t actually say any of that. Instead he primly steps around the masked man to lean over the bodies on the ground. 

“I hope your job pays enough to buy me a replacement tie,” Foggy leaves the “asshole” part unsaid but he’s sure Matt gets it.

He presses his fingers against the older one’s neck (Ralph, he thinks it was) feeling for a pulse.

“They’re fine. Just unconscious.”

“Yeah, uh huh.” He reaches out to the younger man and sighs in relief when his pulse also flutters under his fingertips. “And you think that this is fine? That it’s ok to beat people unconscious?” He can’t look at Matt’s face.

Matt doesn’t say anything so Foggy glances over his shoulder at his friend. But it’s impossible to read because he literally can’t look at Matt’s face under that mask and stupid horns.

“You’re bleeding.” 

Startled Foggy brings his fingers to his lips feeling a wet sting when he does. It’s true. When he takes his fingers away he can see the bright red smear in the dim light. He trembles slightly and Matt can probably tell how he’s starting to freak out. Two inches from where he’s crouched the knife gleams on the alley floor.

And sure his muggers didn’t want to hurt him but doesn’t want doesn’t always equal does not and he could have ended the night bleeding out all for the empty contents of his wallet.

He wipes the blood off on his pants (now he’ll have to pay for dry cleaning) and stands up shakily.

“I’m calling the cops,” he declares lurching away from the whole muggers and Daredevil thing, keeping back to Matt because it’s just better that way. When there’s no protest about this he pulls out his phone and dials 911.

He gives his location and situation but after he brings up Daredevil to the responder (and assured her that no, he wasn’t in any immediate danger from the masked vigilante either) he spends a few minutes arguing with her that it was just Daredevil, not The Daredevil.

“No, it’s _the_. Just like The Ironman.” She insists.

“What? No! He’s just Iron Man too. There’s no the! Oh my God! Just send someone to get these guys. Jesus!” Foggy stabs the end button with his thumb.

He half expects Matt to be gone when he looks up but he’s still standing there weird and red and looming. Maybe he can hear Foggy’s unasked question because he tilts his head slightly and says, “It’s a busy night. It’ll take at least 20 minutes before a cruiser can make it here.”

“Oh. Ok.” 

His heart is pounding away and it kills him that Matt can totally hear how not ok he is. How he’s totally freaking out. They can’t even talk about it as Matt and Foggy since they are playing two guys who’ve never met before. 

“Do you have anyone you can call?”

That may be a reasonable question for Daredevil but unless Matt is suggesting Foggy call Karen, and God strike him dead before he ever calls Karen up in the middle of the night to tell her he’s just been mugged, Foggy does not have anyone to call. The only people on his phone tree are Matt (who is currently busy being an asshole), Karen, and what? Maybe Brett? But he’s already called the police.

He shakes his head and it’s a struggle not to say that he just shook his head.

“No.” He’s about to make a quip about how he could call his blind good for nothing partner but he’s probably sleeping because it’s after 9:00 on a weekday. Instead he says, “I’d hate to call my wife and worry her.”

“Your wife?” and Foggy hadn’t meant to say that but Matt’s voice sounds amused and almost normal and since they were strangers Foggy might as well pretend to be a dude not freaking out over a split lip in a dark alley. 

“Yeah, my wife. Her name’s Amber. She’ll freak out when she hears about this.”

“Ah,” Matt, or rather Daredevil, says gamely, “She must love you very much.”

“Of course she does. I’ve been married to my beautiful Amber for over 5 years. She’s my rock. We have two point five beautiful children. They are also my rocks.”

“Point five huh?”

“The point five is a beautiful bouncing boy. Dave Jr. And I’m Dave,” He holds out his hand making a ridiculous face no doubt lost on Matt, “I’m a butcher.”

The laugh that Matt chokes back warms his chest and he thinks, _yeah I’m gonna be fine._

Then Matt takes his hand saying “nice to meet you Dave” and Foggy clutches it like a life line because oh yeah no maybe he’ll just have a panic attack instead.

If they were really meeting each other for the first time he have held Matt’s hand way past the acceptable point.

“Nice to meet you too,” he says finally super lamely. 

“I’m sure this was…frightening.” Matt picks his words slowly in his low super hero voice squeezing Foggy’s fingers, “But you must be used to blood. Being a butcher and all.”

“Oh yeah, blood and violence. Just an ordinary day for me.”

“Still, I’m glad I got here before you got hurt.”

“Thanks again for the save.”

“It’s my duty to protect the good citizens of Hell’s Kitchen.” And that’s so fucking cheesy and Foggy prays that Matt is just kidding around with him and doesn’t talk like that to other people.

“My hero.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” And it’s Matt, just Matt under the horns, soft and sincere and it’s breaking Foggy’s heart. 

So when he says, “Surly there must be something I can do to thank you,” it’s supposed to be funny and light, a ridiculous damsel in distress thing to say. Instead his throat catches and the words come out husky like a filthy promise.

And like that, oops, he`s turned himself on. 

Foggy would not describe himself as a sexy man. He isn’t unattractive per se; he’s witty, super charming, and has been called _cute as hell._ But as a rule he’s not sexy and he’s not seductive. So when his voice does this thing completely out of his control making him sound both sexy, in control, and seductive it’s enough to make part of him perk up and say _hey that was pretty hot!_

But another more pragmatic part of him (the part that’s not his dick) wants to know _wait so does Matt know that we’re sorta half hard?_

But really, it’s fine, it’s not like he’s hasn’t hit on Matt before. He says these things and he’s always joking. 

Mostly. 

Except now he knows that Matt knows that he’s only mostly joking. Right? Because it’s only a joke if Matt thinks it’s a joke.

So there he is, bleeding in an alleyway, propositioning his best friend, standing so close he can feel body heat, thinking about not thinking about his heart beat and being low key turned on.

Foggy needs, as usual, Matt to put him out of his misery, laugh at his joke so he can turn it around into an offer for free beef and not an obvious ploy for dirty alley sex. At the very least Matt should let go of Foggy’s hand.

But instead of either of these things Matt tilts his head down and in an equally obscene way says, “I could think of something you could do.” 

And they are very off script and he’s definitely turned on and Matt probably definitely knows? But also how does he know? Does he smell sex pheromones? Hear blood rushing down to Foggy’s junk?

To save himself from his self-destructing brain Foggy steps forward so their bodies are flushed together, meaning Matt does not need super powers to tell what state his dick is currently in.

“What did you have in mind?” he purrs and Foggy Nelson doesn’t purr since he’s not a sexy cat but Dave is apparently a man whore.

“I…I,” Matt stammers, losing his nerve.

Wuss.

“Cause I can think of a few things.” Foggy takes the plunge and presses their lips together.

And he’s going to pretend that he isn’t Foggy Nelson kissing his very best friend in a darkened alley because that would be a stupid heart breaking thing to do. No, he’s just some guy showing a hero some appreciation. And maybe Dave is a shitty husband (Or maybe not. Maybe he and Amber have an open relationship. Who the fuck knows?) but he’s a great kisser who gives everything he’s got.

Matt’s lips are soft (of course they are) and Foggy licks them and then they are soft and slick. He presses onward, licking into Matt’s mouth, wet and hot, curling his tongue behind his front teeth, pulling back to nibble on his lower lip, sliding over to kiss the corners of his mouth, and then kissing up his cheeks. There isn’t much that isn’t covered with a mask but he just fucking worship the available half face with his mouth.

Matt’s kisses back are almost hesitant like he’s trying to disappear into the moment. Breathing hard he tilts his head so Foggy can nip at the underside of his jaw. The noise coming from Matt makes Foggy press his dick harder against Matt’s thigh.

They pull apart, breathing each other’s air raggedly. What little of Matt’s skin Foggy can see is flushed and his lips are swollen plump from kissing. Foggy`s sure that his face is equally red from arousal and the scratch of Matt`s stubble (though probably more red and blotchy and less perfect). He presses his forehead to Matt’s, so close he can’t see anything.

“This ok?”

“Yeah” Matt breathes out, quiet and whispered, “I just haven’t… I haven’t done this before.”

_This_ Foggy assumes is having an intimate encounter with a guy as opposed to PG-13 making out.

“Oh.” He brings lips up to the slits on the side of the mask, “I have.” 

He fills that sentence with all the truth he can and grinds their hips together. 

_Is this news to you,_ Foggy doesn’t ask because it’s really not the time, _Hey Matt, when you knew all the times I lied, does that mean you know all the secrets I never told you? All the lies by omission? Like the respectable amount of pole I smoked in college? Do you just know everything, even things I don’t admit to myself?_

“And I know how,” Foggy continues as if he’s not questioning every conversation he and Matt have ever had, “you’re supposed to repay mysterious masked men.”

He falls to his knees with a thump and nuzzles against the front of Matt’s pants. The costumes not spandex so Foggy can’t feel the outline of a dick or anything; he can only feel Kevlar and what he can only presume is a cup. But Matt makes a noise, a good happy gasp sound, so he keeps lovingly rubbing. 

He looks up, one hand on one side of the cup bulge, cheek on the other. Matt’s not looking down at him but, then again, he never really looks at anyone. He’s just head back, breathing hard, experiencing everything.

“You don’t have to,” Matt says finally.

It’s cute that he thinks Foggy sucking his cock is some kind of hardship.

“Of course I don’t have to. I want to,” and that’s also not a lie that he breathes out hot against the costume’s crotch. Daredevil makes a noise and thumps his head back against the wall.

He slides his hands up Matt’s legs towards his waist with deliberate intent. After a few second of fumbling, he huffs irritated.

“But you’re gonna have to help me out here pal. Do your pants come off or..?”

He gets a shaky laugh, “Yeah, they come off. Here.”

Matt guides Foggy’s hands up until he finds these secret catches and unhooks the lower part of the outfit. And he was right about the cup or rather the athletic looking jock strap Matt’s wearing and that’s definitely hot. Foggy groans overtaken by desire and presses his face forward, breathing in the sharp musky smell of sweat and dick, a warm manly smell.

“God, you’re so…you’re so into this I can’t-”

“Sure I’m into this. Not every day a man gets to suck hero cock.”

He tugs on the skimpy elastic waist band of the jock strap and is rewarded with said hero cock: hard, cut, red and flushed. Of course even Matt’s dick is ridiculously attractive. Foggy licks his palms before reaching out and stroking that contradiction that is impossibly silky skin stretched over steel. Circling the shaft base with one hand, he gives the head tentative lick then bob’s down taking as much as he can.

He hasn’t done this in a while but sucking dick is a lot like riding a bicycle; you never really forget how and the secret is enthusiasm. And lots of spit but that part didn’t apply to bicycles. 

He builds a rhythm going down as far as he can take it until his lips kiss his fist then pulling back up and off tight clenching hand following his mouth up. The air he breathes in is hot and humid and everything, his hands, his face, Matt`s dick, is hot too and spit sticky.

Enthusiasm is really the trick though. Foggy would usually try to make eye contact, since looking happily up at someone though your eyelashes is a good way to let a dude know you were really into the whole thing, but since Matt couldn’t see him (except vaguely on fire), he`d have to come up with something else. This ends up being him making unnecessary and obscene amounts of noises. He happily hums in the back of this throat and makes slurping smacking pops when he pulls his mouth off.

He shifts so he can look up at Matt any way and it’s worth the twinge in his neck. Matt’s mouth keeps opening and closing but he makes very little sound, just aborted breaths and tiny grunts. He’s hardly even moving, just slight twitches in his hips, stomach muscles clenching, and his hands tightening to fists. He’s not sure if the half said F sounds coming out of that mouth are the beginnings of the word fuck or Foggy’s own name but it’s great either way.

Matt fucking Murdock is coming apart under his ministration. His silver tongue is destroying the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. The dick in his mouth and how utterly wrecked Matt looks is just killing him and he’s so painfully hard. Foggy frees up a hand to squeeze between his own legs and it really won’t take much for him to blow his load.

Matt’s also the most considerate blow job getter ever since his hands are just griping the wall behind him, not even touching Foggy. He wants Matt to touch him. Foggy reaches up to pulls those hands down towards him but Matt doesn’t grab, just reaches out and gently caresses him. 

There’s no warning just a stutter stop hip quiver, a breathy groan and he comes with one hand cradling Foggy’s face the other gloved hand tangling through his hair. 

Matt doesn’t take any time to recover; instead he grips the lapels of Foggy’s jacket, hauls him up and shoves against the alley wall. There’s still come, hot and coppery, on Foggy’s tongue so he doesn’t expect Matt to kiss him but he does and it’s something Matt licking himself out of Foggy’s mouth. It’s sloppy and open mouthed. 

When they pull apart, Foggy goes to say…something but before he gets the chance he’s flipped face first into the wall, Matt tight and insistently pressed against his back, hands roaming across his chest.

Foggy’s shirts been rucked up from the evening’s activities and Matt goes ahead and pulls the tails out of Foggy’s pants, and slides a hand up underneath. The gloves make Matt’s hands cool to the touch and plastic smooth. The hand stays on his stomach for a second before sliding downwards and Foggy breathes heavily though his nose trying not to let out the loud sounds he can feel building in the back of his throat. The hand continues down, hits his pants, pops open the button, shoves into his boxers and there’s a gloved hand around his dick. The noise he had tried to hold back is a fairly high pitched whine. 

Foggy’s got one arm braced against the wall, so his face doesn’t smash into the bricks, and he brings his free one up to clamp over his mouth but Matt stops him, pinning his wrist to the wall.

“Don’t do that. I want to hear you.”

“Oh fuuugh,” he groans incoherently the hand pumping him languidly. 

“Talk to me,” Matt’s voice is intense and low. The controlled pace is torturously slow; Foggy can’t move his hips to go faster since he’s crowded up against the wall.

“Please.” He tries to say more but the slow stroking is misfiring his brain.

“Anything,” Matt breathes face pressed into the back of Foggy’s neck. He can feel the horns as they catch in his hair. 

“Faster.” He’s finally makes out, desperately. Matt complies readjusting Foggy’s legs by sliding a knee between them and holding his hip so they don’t collapse under him. He’s able to thrust against the pace of the hand picking up a rhythm bucking his ass back against Matt. And oh yes please he just want’s Matt to fuck him. Condoms and lube be damned; he’ll take that hot pain just to get fucked against the wall. The words that he babbles out hopefully convey this need.

His eyes are squeezed shut and he is beyond words focusing only on the lips on his neck, fingers pressing against his hip and a thumb trailing over the head of his penis. So close to what he needs, he’s just so very close.

“C’mon just fuck me already Matty please.”

Matt jerks, then goes still. Shit. He turns around and Matt’s, well not staring because he doesn’t look at people, but standing like he’s listening to something far away. 

Foggy’s not sure if he needs to say, sorry for breaking character, sorry for making things weird, or just sorry for suggesting alley sex. 

“I’m sorry.” Matt beats him to it. 

Then, without further ado it’s just Foggy Nelson, fly down, two unconscious crooks in an alley and the costumed man who’d been just giving him a nice reach around just freaking parkouring away.

“The fuck?”

A second later he hears the siren wail.

Cocked blocked by the NYPD. 

“Come on! Since when are the police in this town remotely efficient?”

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt and post here: https://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/725.html?thread=206805#cmt206805


End file.
